


and every heart in the room will melt

by makeitbetter



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: M/M, messy but i kinda like it (sort of), there's no plot here it's basically just a glorified drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 07:20:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20720303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makeitbetter/pseuds/makeitbetter
Summary: you’re on your way to the top, and he’s probably forgotten you already.//(or: the one where they look at each other a lot)





	and every heart in the room will melt

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote the first draft of this in my notes app on the bus to work, but let me tell you that first draft was trash - more trash than this finished product is. 
> 
> title is from [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R7Gf2SOmz5Q) song

it’s the longest day of the year and you’re sprawled out across the seat at the back of the bus because right now there’s no one here to stop you. there’s a packet of chips warming the lining of your jacket pocket, a guitar case at your feet, and a cigarette behind your ear, and you’re thinking you might have everything you could ever need to make it to the top - the toppermost of the poppermost, that’s where you’re heading, you can feel it.

the bus slows to a stop to let a bunch of school kids get on, a few vaguely familiar faces in the crowd that you must have seen taking this route hundreds of times, and for a moment one of the boys glances up and his gaze happens to snag on yours -

\- and then his eyes slide past, and you push a breath out of your lungs.

you’re on your way to the top, and he’s probably forgotten you already.

**/ **

it’s nice to find that you’ve actually got something of a kindred spirit in paul.

it’s three in the afternoon and number twenty is empty, save for the two of you. you’re taking up space in the living room, legs stretched out across the carpet and playing a tune that’s half buddy holly, half a lennon original, and there’s something about it that you know could work - you just have to find what that thing is.

when you look up to ask paul’s opinion on it, his own guitar sits silently in his lap and he’s staring in that way he sometimes does, expression soft around the edges in a way that makes you feel -

“what the hell are you looking at?” you ask and he jumps, and suddenly the look is gone and his gaze is on the floor - not forgetting this time, but still sliding past you, still moving on.

still out of reach.

“nothing,” he says, plucking a single guitar chord, and that’s the end of that.

**/ **

it’s not until later, much later, that you realise that it’s not nothing - that all those stolen glances actually_ mean_ something.

when you do finally work it out, the pair of you, it feels like things can finally start to fall into place, like there was a cloud hanging over you that’s suddenly gone and the weight that’s always burdened your shoulders is just that little bit lighter.

maybe now it’s just a burden shared.

(a small part of you feels like you’ve earned it, after all that back and forth the two of you did. you’re not about to forget that in a hurry.)

things are falling into place in the band, too, and the things you were always so sure you needed are now found in george’s dry sense of humour, in ringo’s unwavering cheeriness, in paul’s fingers in the spaces between yours.

there’s talks of recording contracts and singles and albums, and it’s during one of these talks that you happen to glance up and paul’s watching you with a smile on his lips, and this time his eyes don’t slide away, lingering on yours.

this time, when you ask what he’s looking at, all he says is _you_.

**Author's Note:**

> are y'all sick of me yet, i know i am


End file.
